Sugar Rush
by Friday Night Special
Summary: Running from his past, Rooney winds up in La Push hoping for a fresh start. Soon, he discovers that you can never run away from a past like his, and finds himself looking for solace in the arms of the Rez most temperamental shape-shifter. PaulxOc SLASH.
1. No Strings Attached

**Disclaimer: **I own virtually nothing about this story other than the plot, and any character that you don't recognize from the original "Twilight Saga". Everything (and everyone) else belongs to the talented Mrs. Stephanie Meyer.

**A/N: **Okay, so, I took some time off from Fanfiction writing to look into new forms of writing and such to expand my horizons a bit, but, I somehow wandered my way back here and I'm ready to start fresh with a whole new story that, if all goes well, is intended to be the first book in a series! It's set just a month or two post BD just a little FYI, and it's a bit AU as I'm completely **removing** the character of Paul's cannon imprint **Rachel Black**, which I'm sure you figured out already. I'm already halfway through the second chapter but I'm not gonna pressure myself with a writing schedule with this 'cause it'll just cause writer's block or crappy writing and no one wants that do we? So, please enjoy!

**_~*_****Sugar Rush: By Friday Night Special_*~_**

_Chapter 1: No Strings Attached_

_(Paul's POV)_

Fuck love.

Call me crazy, but I really just don't understand what the big deal is that everyone makes about: _"finding that special someone"_, or, _"settling down"_. I consider myself a simpler guy: fuck 'em and leave 'em. Sure, to most people that might make me sound like a real douche but the whole concept of finding that one person who you look at for the first time and you know that they're the one you want to spend your life with – yeah that never really stuck with me.

The way I go about life: a chick thinks I'm hot, I bring here back to may place (or if lucks on my side that night hers), give her very possibly the best fuck and orgasm she'll ever have in her life, than send her happily on her way back to wherever the hell she came from the next morning. And then do the same thing all over again with a different girl on the next night.

Now, to me, the thought of spending every night with the same old boring person in your bed kind of pales in comparison to the chance of having a different girl – or, if you're really lucky like me, _girls_ – in your bed every night now doesn't it? No strings attached, just the way I like it.

"Paul Lahote you are such a dick!"

Apparently this chick doesn't feel the same.

Rolling my eyes, I ignored her irritating, nasal whining as I slipped back into my jeans, pulling them up and buttoning before looking around for my shirt that someone got loss in the tornado of clothes inside the bedroom. _Geez, has this chick every heard of spring cleaning?_

Her name was April, or Amanda – really hot, brunette, big tits, dumber than the newborn. That type. We'd hooked up once before at a party a while back and she'd been like a hunting dog on my trail ever since. Unfortunately, she'd caught me last night at my most vulnerable - drunk - and easily seduced me into breaking possibly the most important rule in the Player's Rulebook: _Never_sleep with the same girl twice – makes them think it could potentially turn into more than just a bone.

Just as it springs to my mind, and me never being the type to resist a witty comeback, I smirk as I scurry around the room for my shirt and reply, "you weren't complaining about my dick last night."

She scoffs. I hit a nerve.

"You told me I was different." Sniffling, oh great, here comes the waterworks.

Surely enough, soon after my retort April (or Amanda) begins bawling and once again I roll my eyes. If she was gonna put on the theatrics, she could have at least made them the slightest bit believable, though, with a rack like hers, she didn't need talent to be in movies one day.

I stop, fold my arms over my chest and wait it out as she holds her face into her hands, sobbing. After it quiets down a bit I sigh.

"You done?"

She snaps her head up, fixing me with a glare that could turn any other man to stone.

"Oh fuck you, Paul!"

"Sorry, been there, done that. Look you seen my shirt around here? I got shit to do?"

April shrugs, getting up and hooking on her bra. "I dunno. Check under the bed."

Getting down to my hands and knees I follow her directions and surely enough, there lays the little brown fucker. Smirking, I reach in to retrieve my shirt and pull it over my head then snugly down over my torso before returning to my feet.

"Well, it's been fun…, April?"

She growls in frustration. Not April.

"Just get out."

Shrugging, I turn and do just as she orders, making my way down the hall. As I'm heading for the stairs, another door opens and out steps a very sexy, dark-skinned girl in nothing but a pair of lacy bra and panties. She grins seductively at me: April's roommate.

"Bye, Paul. Hope to see you again sometime."

I wink at her and continue down the stairs. Though I'm never one to pass up the potential to start a good catfight, I was too ready to get the hell out of this house and back home to my own bed. I was exhausted, and I knew that Pop would probably need me down at the shop today so it was likely I'd only have time for a brief catnap before I needed to be up on my feet again, and that's not even taking into account that Sam might call a Rez patrol today.

God my life sucks.

Although, Sam had been a little more lenient on patrols lately considering Emily's having all his time and attention focused on their impending wedding. After being engaged forever and the whole mess with those Cullens and their Leech Supremes, the two finally decided it was time to put a date on their little union which was rapidly approaching. Jared was slated to be Sam's best man while I would be looking dashing in a suit as a groomsman. I was happy the whole "imprint, love-of-my-life" thing was working for Sam - and Jared - but I still didn't understand the whole thing completely.

Honestly, I just really hoped that it never happened to me.

I finally arrived back at my place ten minutes later, my truck pulling in to the empty driveway of the quaint little one-story cottage I called home. Pop was probably already on he was to the garage so I knew that the time for my catnap was precious and dwindling.

As I hopped out of my car and headed for the door, I happened to casually glance out of the corner of my eye and caught sight of the strangest thing I'd possibly ever seen: the slim figure of a girl reaching for boxes out of the trunk of a rusted old jeep next door.

The house next door had been vacant since as long as I could remember, and I'd never heard Pop mention anything about new neighbors, not that he was really one to get involved in Rez gossip anyways.

The strangest thing about the situation: the chick was pale, I mean, like, really pale. There wasn't a vast variety of ethnic diversity in the Rez, and I'd never expected to live in walking range of anyone with a skin color other than Russet before.

Dressed in skin-tight red jeans, boots, and a red and black plaid shirt that little a little to big for her slender frame, the chicks face was concealed behind the large box she was currently cautiously bringing from the trunk of her car. I smirked, my eyes traveling the length of her lithe figure – jackpot.

Like some form of fate, the girl suddenly gave a surprised gasp as she began to wobbly unsteadily on her feet as the box began swaying from side to side in her arms.

Using that handy stealth and agility that came with the whole "shape-shifter" deal, I quickly swooped across my yard over into hers and caught the box from the bottom, taking it effortlessly from her fragile arms.

"Whoa, easy there, sweetheart! You all right?" I heard a relieved sigh and moved to gently place the box down on the ground.

"Hey, yeah, thanks. Where'd you come from, anyways? I didn't even hear you?"

Her voice was strange. It was light and airy, though it held just the tiniest amount of base to it. Kind of like a kids voice before he goes through his puberty stage. Shrugging that off (taking in April's nasal whining I'd definitely heard worse) I put on the charming smile I always flashed to set the trap and returned to standing erect.

Oh, my God!

Staring back at me was sure as hell not a chick… I think. It was a dude I believe – round face, big blue eyes; I also noticed a few nearly invisible freckles around his thin nose. His hair was a straightened dirty blond that fell down to his shoulders and he had a bang.

Involuntarily, I took a step back out of surprise.

"Whoa… you're a guy… right?"

Giving me an uncomfortable look he nodded his head.

"Uh, yeah," he replied with a hint of frustration in his tone. "What tipped you off?"

"Definitely not your clothes," I muttered to myself.

"Pardon?"

I shook my head, muttering, "nothing."

He looked down at the box that he'd currently nearly just dropped that I'd placed on the ground before looking back to me and smiling a little.

"Thanks, for that. I don't have much so every little thing counts."

Reluctantly, I smiled back. "No problem. You the only one moving in?"

"Yup," he replied with a nod. "Just me, myself and I; I'm Rooney by the way."

I accept the hand that he offered, shaking it though looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"Rooney? Like the actress?"

"Uh, yeah, it's short for Ronaldo." For some reason that I don't even wanna try to figure out, I found the self-conscious smile he gave me… cute? Yup I definitely needed some sleep.

"Oh, well, all right then. You need any help or… you good?"

Quickly he nodded his head yes. "Yeah, I'll be fine… uh…?"

When he trailed off I realized that I haven't even given him my name in return. Shaking my head I grinned and informed him, "Paul, Paul Lahote."

With a small smile, Rooney nods his head. "Nice meeting you, Paul Lahote."

"You too, Rooney… Mara?"

He laughed, a small, quiet laugh, but the kind of laugh that could make the people around him laugh also.

"No, it's Johnston. Rooney Johnston."

I nod in understanding before giving him a salute and walking off back in the direction of my house. As I reached the front porch and pulled at the screen door, giving it to give with a little extra force and squelch open, I turned back, looking across the yard at Rooney as he struggled with getting that box up the porch steps and into the house. Eventually he got there.

Laughing to myself, I shook my head and made my way inside for some very well-deserved R&R.

_**~*SR*~*SR*~*SR***_

So, apparently I was much more exhausted than I'd thought considering I didn't even make it past the sofa when I finally got into the house.

Currently humbled by a very vivid dream of myself and a few of the Playboy Bunnies partaking in a game of strip poker, you can imagine how incredibly pissed I was when I was forced awake by the sound of rapping at my front door.

With a groan, I forced my eyes to remain shut; trying to force the dream back (Holly was just about to loose the bra). Unfortunately, the rapping at my door continued and I reluctantly opened my eyes, groaning as I pulled myself up to my feet and too the front door, yanking it open to be greeted with the grinning face of none other that Jared Cameron.

"What?" I growled as he opened the screen door and he waltz right in, still technically uninvited.

"Dude, did you know you had a new neighbor? I saw a jeep parked in the driveway next door," Jared commented as he instantly headed for the kitchen, making his way to the fridge and helping himself to one of the cans of beer my father had chilling in there.

Rolling my eyes I closed the front door again and returned to the couch, turning on the television and began channel surfing, looking for something remotely entertaining on my stupid cable channels. We really need to upgrade to Dish Network.

"Yeah, I met the dude earlier," I responded gruffly, not breaking my eyes away from the television screen as Jared returned, taking a seat next to me on the sofa.

"Really? What's he like?"

"White," I responded, as it was the first thing about him that came to mind. "Like, _really_ white."

Jared's eyes widened in alarm. "He isn't…?"

"No, dumbass," I retorted, rolling my eyes. "He not a leech – just pale."

"Hmm… strange. Well what's he look like?"

"You want me to go next door and get you a picture?" I demanded, growing annoyed. "What does it matter? You switching sides now or something? Kim not taking care of things downstairs?" I chuckled to myself, snatching the beer away from him and taking a swig.

Jared fixed me with a stony glare. "Fuck you. But, since you mention it, I'm having a little trouble with that. I mean, I love her, and I'm cool with wanting to wait I guess, but what if she wants to wait till we're married or something?"

"Wait," I interrupted, chuckling, "you mean you haven't nailed her yet?"

Bawling his hands into a fist, Jared socks me in the shoulder but I barely flinch. For a wolf, he hits like a bitch.

"Don't talk about her like she's one of the whores you hookup with. Kim's special. And I want our first time to be special, I'm just worried that'll be, like, light years from now."

"Well, just do what I do: buy her dinner, let her tell you about all the boring, meaningless little aspects of her day, treat her like a queen, and soon enough she'll give you the keys to the castle."

"But I already do all of that!" He whines in response. "I can't keep taking care of things myself, Paul – I'll get carpel tunnel."

Nearly gagging out my beer, I turn to him with a disgusted look on my face as I swallow the bitter liquid.

"Dude, way too much info!"

"Oh don't act like you've never done it. Look do you have any advice for me or not?"

"Is this the reason you woke me up: to get advice on how to get your girl into bed?" I demanded, giving him a cold stare.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "That and to tell you that Sam wants to on patrol tonight, with the Pups."

Great. Just fucking great.

"Look, man, just—"

I was suddenly cut off by the sound of knocking at my door yet again. Groaning loudly, I got up from the couch and headed over to the door, snatching it open expecting it to be one of the Pups –Sam's packs nickname from Collin and Brady – coming to whine about something.

"Uh… hi, Paul."

There, on my doorstep, stood Rooney. Still as small and dainty as he was when I met him an hour ago and still dressed in his strange, effeminate clothing.

"Yeah?" I asked, not in the mood to be cordial.

"I was wondering if I could use your phone. My cell's dead and I haven't gotten a house line yet."

He waves a tiny cell phone at me and, reluctantly, I nod my head and allow him to enter. He smiles thankfully and moves past me, stopping when he see Jared, turned around on the sofa grinning at him.

"Wow, Paul was right: you're _really_ pale."

If looks could kill, the glare that I was currently shooting him would have had Jared sprawled out on the floor right now.

Rooney looks at him strangely. "Uh… yeah."

"I'm Jared, Paul's friend."

"Rooney," the small boy replied, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

"Isn't there an actress or a singer or something named Rooney?"

Rolling my eyes I step around Jared, grabbing him by the shoulder and begin to drag him in the direction of the door. "Don't you have someone else to annoy?"

"Dude he looks like a chick," Jared whispers to me as I move him towards the door.

"Good-bye, Jared," I hiss as I toss him out.

"Nice meeting you, Rooney!" Jared shouts back into the house as I slam the door closed in his face.

Turning back around, I see Rooney still rooted in the same spot, watching me. He smiles softly.

"Your friend's funny."

"Yeah, he's a riot," I retort sarcastically. "The phone's in the kitchen right through there,"

I point in the direction of the kitchen and Rooney smiles and nods before making his way towards it. I move back over to the sofa, sitting down and staring into the television set, though not really paying attention to what's on as I begin to hear the hush whispers of Rooney's phone conversation.

Trying to look casual, I glance over my shoulder into the kitchen where Rooney is leaning against one of the counters, the phone pressed to his ear. He is currently listening to someone speak, his free hand gripping his hair and tugging a bit.

He whispers something back after a moment before doing more listening, from his facial expression I can tell that it doesn't look like the conversation is going too well.

Actually looking at him for real, the boy couldn't be older than seventeen or eighteen, around my and Jared's age. Considering he was moving in alone, I assumed that it was probably his parents on the phone arguing with him or something. _Maybe he's a runaway_?

After a moment, Rooney sighs and nods before saying something to whomever it was he was speaking with before hanging up. Quickly I turn back around in my seat, facing the television just as he emerges from the kitchen, hands stuffed into the pockets of his incredibly tight jeans.

"Thanks for letting me use your phone. I'll get out of your hair now."

I nod and get up as he moves towards the door.

"No problem. So I'll see you around?"

After a second he smiles, though it looks a little forced, and nods his head yes. "Yeah most definitely."

He turns on his heels and begins down the porch making his way back across the yard to his house. I step out onto the porch and watch him go. As he reaches his own porch, he stops, turn in my direction and smiles and waves, again I give him a small salute and wait for him to step inside before I go back inside of my own place.

Shutting the front door, I turn around and move into the kitchen just as the phone begins ringing. I answer it, giving a sleepy yawn. Guess who just got called in to work? Did I mention just how much my life sucked?


	2. Start Me Up

**Disclaimer: **I own virtually nothing about this story other than the plot, and any character that you don't recognize from the original "Twilight Saga". Everything (and everyone) else belongs to the talented Mrs. Stephanie Meyer.

**A/N: ** No time for a super-long note today. October, as usual, has proven to be a super busy month for me. But I've finished up chapter 3 and 4 is in the works so the next update should be SUPER soon... like early next week soon :) Later boys and squirrels (I watch too much vicTorious).

**_~*_****Sugar Rush: By Friday Night Special_*~_**

_Chapter 2: Start Me Up_

_(Rooney's POV)_

Moving sucks! Seriously, if it's not bad enough having to pack up every little thing you own all by yourself, and then you have to haul them across the country in a very outdated station wagon, get to the house, carry in all the boxes by yourself, and then unpack them all over again! Honestly, it's a very exhausting process.

Although, I didn't have much to begin with so it really shouldn't have been as big a bother as I felt it was.

My move to La Push, hell, my move to Washington period had been a completely spur of the moment decision. I had to get away, that much was a fact, and the patriot state just seemed like the perfect place to do it I suppose. It was lucky enough that I'd been able to find a place for so cheap, although I had to find work and soon if I wanted to keep up with the bills that'd soon begin piling up.

Thankfully the house came with all the essential appliances one would need – a stove, refrigerator, toilet and a few sinks. Of course I'd need to invest in an actual bed sometime soon considering the blow-up mattress I currently had wasn't exactly an outstanding sleeping experience. The place definitely wasn't a dump, but it was in serious need of some new wallpapering and maybe I'd carpet over this wood flooring one day. It had potential.

Other than my neighbor Paul and his peculiar friend, Jared, I'd yet to meet anyone else that lived on the Reservation. I'd heard it was a particularly secluded place just on the outskirts of Forks, Washington, mainly home to members of some tribe though I can't remember its name right off the top of my head.

Paul seemed like a pretty okay guy – friendly, helpful, and the fact that he was really cute didn't hurt either. I probably wouldn't see too much of him since I had no plans of being outside of this house very often, but I believe I lucked out when it comes to the endless possibilities of potential neighbors I could have received.

Stepping out the back door of my home out onto the back porch, I fished into the front pocket of my shirt, retrieving my pack of Marlboros and a lighter. I hated smoking honestly, it was a filthy, nasty habit that one day I'd kick, but right now, my nerves were more haywire than a herd of kids hyped up on sugar. _I'm safe. I have to be safe. There's no way they'll find me here; no one will find me. _I repeated that over and over to myself until I fooled myself into believing it, but I knew the feeling of solace and security would only last but for so long. I was the kind prone to insistent worrying, and, with a history like mine, you'd understand why.

Looking out to the sun that was just barely visible over the sea of trees in my backyard, I released a puff of smoke dropping then cigarette and stomping it out with a disgusted look before I turned around and headed back inside.

I moved to the bean bag chair which, along with a lamp placed atop a stack of old magazines currently served as my living room. I wasn't able to take any seriously heavy furniture with me when I left so that I wouldn't have to deal with a moving truck, but that also meant that, basically, my new home was pretty bare.

Pulling my knees up to my chest, I opened the newspaper that I'd bought when I passed through town to get here and instantly flipped to the local job listing, looking for anywhere that was hiring that was close enough where my car could survive the trip, and I that paid well enough that I could actually survive here on my own.

"Nope, nope, hell nope." I sighed as one by one I checked off all the listed positions – none of which were suited for a high school dropout like me. I'd skipped a few grades anyways so it wasn't like I desperately needed school; it was just hard to go while always being on the run at the same time.

Groaning in frustration, I tossed the useless newspaper aside, finding nothing helpful about it. Time was a luxury that would soon quickly be running out, and unless I wanted to end up back on the streets again I needed a plan, and fast.

Whatever plan it was I'd concoct, it definitely wouldn't be coming to me tonight. Giving a long, drawn out yawn, I figured that since there was nothing else I could really do about my employment situation at the moment, it'd be best for me to just go ahead and turn in early so that I could get an early start first thing tomorrow.

Pulling myself up to my feet, I moved over to the last box I had that remained unpacked pushed up against the wall. The duct tape I'd rolled over the flaps still intact. Leaning down to my knees in front of it, I ripped the box open and smiled softly as I reached inside, pulling out the only item that the box contained: a wooden-framed photograph of myself at the tender age of six, and the most beautiful woman to ever exist – my mother.

All of my looks and character traits I'd received from her – my hair and eye color, my porcelain skin complexion, even my inability to grow over the height of 5'7". Back home, I was constantly told that I was the spitting image of my mother and I'd always taken that as a huge compliment. Although there wasn't a lot I remembered about her now being a full grown adult and having lost her so many years ago, there was one thing about her that I could never forget: her kindness. The love and tenderness that my mother gave to everyone she met always stuck with me, and I'd made it a priority to do the same onto others that I encountered – and I was fairly sure that it was the only reason I still breathed. Thinking on it now though, I'm still not entirely sure that I really wanted to breathe – wanted to live.

What kind of existence was this? Always being on the run and moving from place to place whilst constantly looking over your shoulder. Maybe if I hadn't been so nice, so damn sympathetic, maybe my pathetic excuse for a life would have been ended years back, instead of being thrown into this seemingly endless game of cat and mouse.

I wasn't even aware of the fact that I was crying until I noticed a droplet of water splat against the glass of the frame, landing directly on the smiling face of my mother. Sniffling, I wiped my eyes dry quickly as well as the glass before returning to my feet and placing the picture onto the tiny wooden card table that served as my dining room.

Moving down the hall, I entered my bedroom, which really was just a few blankets thrown onto the floor along with a few pillows, along with another beanbag chair pushed up against the wall near the window. Also, I had another make-shift nightstand, this one made of old comics that I'd stolen from the last shelter I'd stayed in, and atop it was another lamp that was currently turned on. The few articles of clothing I had with me were neatly folded up into organized piles of pants and shirts and pushed behind the door. The wooden walls were bare of any form of art as I had none to put up. If the only way you could prove my existence would be to find me in a picture – other than the years-old one in my dinning room – it'd be as if I never was – and that was just the way that I wanted it. I couldn't leave traces.

Snuggling my way in-between the comforters thrown on my floor, I moved to turn off the table lamp before I sighed softly and nuzzled my head into one of my pillows, relishing the cool comfort it provided me.

Within moments of closing my eyes I'd slipped away into unconsciousness, welcoming to darkness to overtake me.

_~*SR*~*SR*~*SR*_

The next morning, the intrusion of the sun as it basked over my face through the window forced me awake, though I tried my damndest to slip off again. With a groan, I threw the comforter from my head and slowly sat up, feeling my head rush as it adjusted to my new state of consciousness.

Looking around the cramped space of my room, I wondered if all of the houses in the area were this quaint. For the short amount of time I'd spent in Paul's place yesterday the layout look pretty similar, but I doubted a boy of his size could fit in a room this strapped for space. Come of think of it – that boy was freaking huge! Spinach had definitely been good to him. I'd have to be careful to make sure that I was the picture perfect example of a good neighbor 'cause that was definitely someone I didn't want as an enemy.

Groggily getting to my feet, I made my way across the hall into the bathroom and took a long, hard look at the wreck staring back at me. My hair was a complete mess with every strand seeming to be reaching in a different direction, I could make out the ring of bags beginning to form underneath my eyes and, as I breathed into my palm, I was made aware of the nasty state of my morning breath. Shaking my head to clear my nostrils of the nauseating scent, I reached over into the shower and turned the hot water valve before stripping of the PJs that I'd slipped into before bed last night and stepping inside.

As to be expected, the water felt like a godsend over my aching body. The heat soothed out the tense knots in my muscles expertly and, by the time I finished washing every part of my body from my hair to my toes, I emerged from the shower feeling damn near brand new.

I brushed my teeth, annihilating my rank morning breath for a more minty scent. Clad only in a towel I then made my way back across the hall into my bedroom and began sorting through my pile of tops and bottoms to decide just what creation I'd throw on today. Looking at my options, I grimaced, just wishing to find a pair of baggy cargo pants and a vintage t-shirt of some sort but there was no such luck, in my haste to take whatever I could and make a trail of dust, I'd only grabbed what looked like and endless amount of skinny jeans, a few tank tops, and some very colorful tops.

"No wonder he thought I was a girl," I muttered to myself, remembering Paul's surprise yesterday when he recognized that I was in fact of the male gender. Damn those homeless boys from the shelter for being so damn bulky, there wasn't a single article of male clothing I could take that didn't nearly fall off my body. Taking in what my current wardrobe had to offer, the girl's clothes proved to be a much better fit.

Rolling my eyes, I finally settled on a gray tank top and a pair of brown leather skin-tight pants. Luckily I had a pair of shoes that were just about the same color as the pants so I didn't have to worry about clashing, though that should probably be one of the least of my concerns considering my current position.

I changed quickly, thankful that this outfit carried much more of a masculine vibe than the one I'd worn yesterday, then went back into my bedroom to grab my favorite leather jacket and shrugged into that.

After I was fully dressed I made my way outside – it was raining. Fabulous. It'd also been drizzling when I'd arrived in town yesterday, and I was beginning to think that from the way the sun hid behind the clouds in the sky today, dreary weather would be in the forecast very fluently for this town. I didn't mind, however. I'd always found something slightly soothing about a thunderstorm. It always gave me an excuse to stay inside and catch up on my reading, though I'd really kill for a laptop and internet connection of some sort right about now.

Fishing into my jacket pocket, I retrieved my cell phone and checked the time: half past noon. My cell phone was possibly the most possession I had. It allowed me to keep in contact with Rogue, the only part of my past life that I had.

I'd lied to Paul yesterday when I told him that my phone was dead – I'd lied to Paul about a lot of things yesterday come to think of it – when it really wasn't, I just didn't have any minutes on the phone to connect me to Rogue. Hitting the town and finding a store that could sell me some was at the top of my priority list for today.

Pulling the collar of my jacket above my head, I headed for my car, quickly climbing into the passenger seat and pulling the squealing door closed behind me. The rain pelted against the windshield first lightly but then more heavily after a few moments. Retrieving my keys from my pocket, I stuck it into the engine and turned the wheel to bring the car to life.

Unfortunately that didn't happen. The car stalled, coughing and sputtering as I persisted with trying to start it to no avail.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" I cried, dropping my head against the wheel. I knew the three hour drive yesterday had to be hell on this piece of crap, but it had all night to rest.

Rolling my eyes at yet another inconvenience in my sucky life, I climbed out of the car, instantly being assailed by the pouring droplets of rain, and made my way to the front of the car, raising the hood for a look under.

Basically it all just looked like a bunch of rusted metal and other stuff to me. I had no idea what went on under the hood of a car that made it run so it was safe to saw that I was pretty much screwed to the extreme. Without my car I couldn't get into town, without getting into town I couldn't find a job, without a job I couldn't afford the bills for this house, without this house it was back to the streets or the first homeless shelter I went.

"Why me?" I cried, tilting my head back so that my voice could carry off into the sky – hopefully someone would answer.

"You need some help?" I gasped, looking around frightened. God?

Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed that it very much wasn't God, but my dripping, very wet, and strangely enough very _shirtless _neighbor. His breathing was heavy from where he stood across the yard in his lawn, from the looks of it his was just arriving home, but where could he have gone in this weather, and wearing nothing but cargo shorts?

Squinting to see him through the heavy rain, I looked back to my car and shook my head. "No thanks, I can figure it out… somehow." I added that last part under my breath, very well knowing that there was no way in hell I would.

As if anything I'd just said went in one ear and out the other, Paul jogged over into my lawn, standing next before me. With him right beside me, I was reminded of, compared to him, just how small I really was. He towered over me easily so that I had to look up to meet his eyes, currently I really only came to his breastbone. Looking up into his face, I noticed that Paul was more than just cute, but actually incredibly handsome, not that it mattered. I'd seen his type before: a cocky skirt-chaser most likely. I could see it in his face.

"I'm pretty good with cars," he informed me. "My Pop owns a shop in Port Angeles. Let me take a look."

Without waiting for conformation – or even the rejection that I would have surely given him – Paul gently pushed me aside and moved to look under the hood of my car. I frowned slightly, watching him as he inspected things. The last thing I needed was to owe this guy a favor, or worse money, for fixing my piece of junk car that would probably be in the same state next week.

"Your problems simple," Paul shouted over the roaring rain. He stepped back, turning back to me. "Your radiators overheated. No offense, but your car is a piece of shit."

It actually did offend me a bit for someone – other than me – to talk so badly about my car. It was really all I had. When I was in-between homes and didn't want to go to another shelter, that thing was my home.

"I noticed," I responded dryly. Not so much as tension towards Paul but towards the car for putting me in this situation.

"Well all I need is some antifreeze. You got any?"

Considering that I had absolutely no idea what antifreeze even was, I considered it safe to shake my head. Paul sighed in annoyance.

"Look I think I've got some over at my place. I'll be right back."

"No, Paul it's really—"

Again, completely ignoring me, he took off back in the direction of his house and disappeared inside. Normally I would appreciate the help, but the fact that he just continued to ignore me was actually begging to get a little irritating.

A moment later he came jogging back out, still shirtless, and carrying a jug of… something, I assume this antifreeze he mentioned, and moved back to my car, unscrewing the lid and beginning to pour it into something in my car. After he'd given the car its fill, he placed the jug to the side and waved to me.

"Go try it now," he ordered not looking away from the inside of the car.

Rolling my eyes, I moved back into the front seat of the car and closed my eyes, praying silently as I turned the ignition – it actually started! After giving a few strained sputters my car finally roared to life and stayed the way, the engine mellowing out a bit after leaving it running for a moment.

Ecstatic, I cheered to myself before climbing out of the car and moving back to Paul who had a cocky grin spread across his face as he lowered the hood back down.

"Thank you, really I never could have done that in… ever."

He shrugged his shoulder and replied, "It's a gift. Comes with being awesome."

Wow. This guy was really in love with himself.

"Yeah, um, well, is there anything I can do for you? I mean, I'm kinda strapped for cash at the moment so I can't pay you but…-"

"It's cool," Paul interrupted me. "Everybody gets one kind act or whatever."

"Well, thank you. I really appreciate this," I assured him with a grateful smile.

"Whatever. Well, later." And without another word, Paul jogged away back to his place next door, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. In the driveway I noticed two cars – a truck and a jeep – parked there, so I assumed he didn't live alone; parents probably.

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, I happily danced back into my car, closing the door after me and playfully tapping my steering wheel. After sitting in silence for a moment, I happened to glance up into my rear-view mirror, and what I saw quickly forced the smile from my face. My hair was stuck to my forehead and dripping wet, along with the rest of my clothing. Great, guess I wouldn't be doing any job searching today.


End file.
